Follow Him

As he passed by the Sea of Galilee,
he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting their nets into the sea;
they were fishermen.
Jesus said to them,
“Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men.”
Then they left their nets and followed him.
He walked along a little farther
and saw James, the son of Zebedee, and his brother John.
They too were in a boat mending their nets.
Then he called them.
So they left their father Zebedee in the boat
along with the hired men and followed him.
Mark 1:14-20

Come after me, now calls the Christ—
for this is he who walks our shores—
and you will seek a different prize
than any you have sought before.

The conquest of the sea in storm,
the freedom of the waves and wind,
the nets that fill 'til they are torn:
Leave these behind and follow him.

Go after him, and leave your nets;
leave all you've known upon the shore
and follow now through life and death:
He charts for you a brand-new course.

The jostle of the marketplace,
the hustle after every whim,
the vying for a name and place:
Leave these behind and follow him.

And after all is said and done,
he meets you on another shore:
You land beneath a rising sun
with nets that filled and never tore.

The sorrows of a broken world,
the wounds from every sharp-edged sin,
the hunger for a heart made pure:
Through all of these you followed him.

Now see! The nets you left behind
are filled beyond the hoping for.
And all you loved, you yet shall find
in Christ's own feast on heaven's shore.

*The calling of Peter and Andrew*. By James Tissot – Online Collection of Brooklyn Museum; Photo: Brooklyn Museum, 2007, 00.159.56_PS1.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10195832

The World We Know Is Changing

When Jesus heard that John had been arrested,
he withdrew to Galilee.
He left Nazareth and went to live in Capernaum by the sea,
in the region of Zebulun and Naphtali,
that what had been said through Isaiah the prophet
might be fulfilled:
Land of Zebulun and land of Naphtali,
the way to the sea, beyond the Jordan,
Galilee of the Gentiles,
the people who sit in darkness
have seen a great light,
on those dwelling in a land overshadowed by death
light has arisen.
From that time on, Jesus began to preach and say,
“Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven is at hand.”
Matthew 4:12-17

The world we know is changing;
compassion's long defeat
is shifting, rearranging
the ground beneath our feet.

Now every step's a crossroads,
and endlessly we choose
to set aside our crossloads
or bear them through the gloom.

The sky is growing dimmer,
and hope slips fast away,
but there is yet a glimmer,
a light that shows the way.

This is the night we walk in
by faith, if not by sight,
and we are made the beacons
who never can be bright.

O Christ, the sun of justice,
come strengthen our poor eyes
to see you in each other
and see your morning rise.

Come, Son of God, renewing
the ground beneath our feet.
Help us each step we're choosing
that peace and justice meet.

The Light of the World – 1853-54 By William Holman Hunt – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6452048

Journey

Jesus summoned the Twelve and gave them power and authority
over all demons and to cure diseases,
and he sent them to proclaim the Kingdom of God
and to heal the sick.
He said to them, “Take nothing for the journey,
neither walking stick, nor sack, nor food, nor money,
and let no one take a second tunic.
Luke 9:1-6

You set me on a journey,
but take all I'd prepared
and send me out with nothing
to go I-know-not-where.
Without my sure provisions
and all my careful plans,
I go about my mission
with only empty hands.

I meant to scale the mountains
but had no rod or staff,
to sail the ocean's fountains,
but had no mast or raft,
so when I fell, I shattered,
and when I sank, I drowned,
and all my dreams were scattered
as ashes on the ground.

What is it, then, you've asked me?
(No money in my sack.)
With what, then, have you tasked me?
(No tunic for my back.)
There's nothing I can give you,
no glories for your name.
I am not worthy of you:
This is my constant shame.

But still your journey beckons,
and, sandal-less, I go
with nothing I had reckoned,
by roads I do not know.
You do not ask for wonders,
but only that I walk.
Then barefoot, let me blunder
along the road you've marked.

The *Calling of Matthew* by Vittore Carpaccio, 1502 – Web Gallery of Art: Image Info about artwork, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9770918

In All You Lay Before Me

In all you lay before me,
with all that lies within,
I turn to you, imploring
such grace I cannot win:
that I may seek in all things
and find in them your love,
so I may serve you always,
whatever ways I move.

You love your whole creation,
and where love is, You are.
In every tribe and nation,
in every wan'dring star.
Then let me love you ever,
each step along my way,
for you are there, wherever
I wander, day by day.

For in ten thousand places
you play and work and love;
you shine in all the faces
that on the wide earth move.
Come with me, loving Savior;
come with me as I go,
and make each place a haven
where I your grace may know.

Air pollution along Pasadena Highway in Los Angeles By Aliazimi – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3703917

Where Are You Staying, Lord?

Another one from Sunday’s gospel reading.

 Where are you staying, Lord?
 Where can we find you here?
 Where sit and listen to your word
 with you a handsbreadth near?
  
 May we sit at your feet
 wheree'er you come to rest
 to find beside you joy complete
 and at your side be blest?
  
 As John the Baptist taught,
 unworthy here to kneel,
 we know you are the Lamb of God,
 the Christ who comes to heal.
  
 And so we turn away
 from our past teacher's voice
 to seek a place with you today,
 a reason to rejoice.
  
 Then, rooted in your word,
 shall we send forth our shoots,
 the practice of what we have heard—
 oh, may we bear good fruit!
  
 Not us, but you alone
 the force that moves our work,
 until at last, before your throne
 we rest with you, oh Lord.